


A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

by TheOneAndOnlyKey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Narcissa gets to be sad, Post War, the black sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneAndOnlyKey/pseuds/TheOneAndOnlyKey
Summary: Narcissa is alone. The war took much from her : a husband on trial for crimes against wizardkind ; a sister whose remains would never be found, though she had died years prior ; another sister who may as well have died, for politics rendered her impossible to reach.In dreams we escape the harsh realities of life. In dreams reality slips away.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Bellatrix Black Lestrange & Narcissa Black Malfoy & Andromeda Black Tonks, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy & Andromeda Black Tonks
Kudos: 14





	A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

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Lush expanses of greenery stretched eternally from her perch atop the concrete patio. Wild flowers bloomed amongst tall stalks of wheat, beckoning her forth to explore. But Narcissa was content to sit. Sit in the gardens of the intact Black Manor as the bickering of her sisters washed over her like a wave. 

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Wait. Her sisters?

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Both of them sat upon a quilted blanket. Both of them. Andromeda and Bellatrix ; Bellatrix and Andromeda. The Death Eater and the Blood Traitor. How long had it been since they’d been together? Years? Decades? And yet they sat there, arguing over some trivial matter, as though not a day had passed. As though nothing had happened. 

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But so much had happened. So many days had flown by. 

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Bellatrix was as she remembered her in her prime : all radiant features accentuated by easy austerity. Her cheeks were full where they had been hollowed through years of malnourishment ; her eyes were vibrant, teasing even, where they had grown dim, dead inside ; her hair was as unruly as it was in the future, but well groomed nonetheless. 

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Something warm bloomed within her bosom when she realised something else. Bella was wearing a dress. A real dress, not so form fitting as to “tarnish her well earned reputation”, but trim enough to at least reveal she was a lady. It was refreshing to see her outside of those gaudy robes all of the Dark Lord’s followers donned ; her distaste for the robes had been voiced. Multiple times. 

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But that’s what she was, wasn’t she? Her elder sister. Not the notorious Death Eater she would become. 

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And Andromeda — Andy. It had been so long since she’d seen her... it was not to be said that her eyes were devoid of greed as she drank in her appearance, how she’d grown, her mind filling in the blanks history had not afforded her. 

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A near perfect clone of her sister and yet completely different. Her chestnut waves lacked the feral wiliness of Bella’s ebony locks. Where Bella had grown sharp, Andy had grown soft : her cheekbones just as pronounced, though more gentle in their slope. Dark eyes — more akin to a bar of Honeydukes infamous chocolate than bottomless abysses of heady power — sparkled with mirth, warmth, and acceptance. Pouting looked foreign on bowed lips meant for smiling, their shade more akin to a carnation than a rose. 

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Though, despite what — to Narcissa — were very obvious differences, many still had difficulty telling the two apart. Many a blessing went to Hecate the day Andromeda deigned casual clothing to be more suited to her style. Horrible, filthy muggle clothing. She did it only to spite Mother : she was certain. 

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Ample and slouchy : Narcissa held no love for the baggy sweater Andromeda had deemed her “studying saviour” during her N.E.W.T.s, therefore it was only customary that she proceed to taunt her with its existence. Her impertinence held no bounds. It was... so Andromeda. Paired with what the muggles called jeans, and fur lined boots, she looked so distinctly mundane it made her heart ache. 

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How had she not seen it coming? All the signs were there. Perhaps she had believed Andy more clever ( 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 ) than that ; perhaps she had just wished it was not so. Whatever the reason may have been, the keen sting of her flight still burrowed deep into her very being whenever she dared turn her thoughts to it. 

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“Cissy. Cissy!” Fingers we’re snapping before her eyes, prompting a most unladylike grunt accompanied with a shake of her blonde hair. 

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“Sorry, pardon?” 

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“I 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 what do you think, but clearly your daydreams are far more interesting than your poor sisters,” simpered Bella, draping herself so that her head was in her lap. Her lips had arched in a patented pout, primed for teasing. 

“Well, I may not have been paying attention, but I think Andy’s right.” She said, a familiar tug of her lips told of the teasing smirk that she now donned. Relishing in the frustrated huff beneath her, a powerful tug in her chest had her sitting a little straighter. 

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“Oh, don’t gloat,” She aspirated, her voice taking on the brittle quality that heralded her impression of a scolding Druella Black : “It’s so 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 of a lady.”

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“Nobody will believe you.” Her returning grin to her sulking sister was smug and downright feral : an expression she had mastered from years of getting her own way. Nobody ever believed that perfect, obedient Narcissa Black was to blame, and why should they? When they have the impulsive Bellatrix and rebellious Andromeda to pin her sins on. 

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Just as tension between the two reached its zenith — Bella with her face contorted in frustration ; Cissa with her indifferent gloating — Andy cleared her throat. “Before you two savages begin your ritual, it’s usually polite to let spectators get out of the way?” As though a spell had been cast within her words they froze, the scene rather comical as they were literally at each other’s throats. 

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Cissy thawed first with a choking, snorting sound that could only be identified as laughter. Infectious as it was, subsequent giggling came from Andy, picking up in intensity, before Bella too succumbed to the throes of their gaiety. 

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They spent the rest of the time just... chatting. Chatting as time had so deprived them of. Chatting about wildflowers, and potion supplements, and idle things that would be forgotten as soon as the conversation took a different turn ; not about politics, nor the devastation of war that had driven such huge rifts between they three. It was like old times. 

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But still morning came, wrenching her from her intramural paradise, forcing her to face the reality of what her life had become. Of the trial of her husband, the lack of warmth beside her in bed more chilling than the presence of dementors. He would be free. He had to be free... lest she be alone. 

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Black’s were not meant to be alone. 

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End file.
